


Sweet like Sugar

by deliuhhhhhh



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Implied Daddy Kink, Sugar Baby AU, because lesbians with daddy kinks are what? valid, brooke gets her boy last name because naming her brooke lynn hytes in a new york fic seemed uh rough, scarlet is a misandrist and we love her for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:28:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliuhhhhhh/pseuds/deliuhhhhhh
Summary: Brooke Lynn Hayhoe doesn't do relationships. But for eight thousand dollars a month, she was willing to fake it





	Sweet like Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> hey there demons, it's me. ya girl. 
> 
> so this is my first crack at writing fic, so please let me know if it's terrible (or if it's not?)! 
> 
> love to you all
> 
> xoxo, delia
> 
> ps: you can also find me on tumblr @thvnderfuckz

**BLH**

**25/F/New York City**

**I’m a 25 year old dancer from Toronto, working to start my career. I like fashion, nights out, and travelling. Seeking a partner who is fun, adventurous, and willing to support me in pursuit of my dream.**

Brooke Lynn read over her bio for what must have been the seventh time in as many minutes and let out a sigh. Each draft that she’d written had sounded more robotic than the last. It’d been a long time since she had to write anything like this, having deleted Tinder, Bumble, and HER off her phone not long after she left Toronto. Since moving to New York, she’d discovered that she much preferred going out and finding women to hook up with in person. With her long blonde hair, dancer’s physique, and innate flirtiness, it was easy enough to find someone willing to take her home for the night. Easier, at least, than talking to a girl on an app for weeks, only to find out that she was interested in a long term commitment, and having to deal with their messy emotions after Brooke told them that she wasn’t interested. If there was one thing that she did not do, it was relationships. 

And now, she was trying to get paid to be in one.

She’d be lying if she said that she never thought she’d be in a position like this. From the time Brooke had told her friends and family that she’d wanted to pursue dance as a full time career, she’d been given the “wouldn’t you rather something more secure” speech more times, and by more people than she could be bothered to count. Even her older sister Katya, who’d chosen to make abstract semi-sacrilegious art her vocation in life, had tried to suggest to her that she do something with a future that was less uncertain. But Brooke knew that she was born to dance, no matter what anyone tried to tell her to the contrary. If anything, their doubt fuelled her drive, and made it all the sweeter when she’d been offered a role in ensemble of the Broadway production of _ Moulin Rouge! _upon her graduation from Ryerson. The moment that she’d stepped off the plane at JFK and stepped into the apartment that she would be sharing with another ensemble member from the show, Scarlet, she felt as though she was living her wildest dreams come true. 

In all of her excitement at the time, Brooke forgot that the most wonderful dreams often lead to the harshest wake ups. 

Four months into her run, the cast began to notice a dwindling number of fans at the stage door after each performance. Five months into her run, cast and crew alike began whispering about finding new jobs soon. Six months into her run, on a particularly humid Sunday in July, the cast and crew were gathered by the production team before everyone left the theatre and were told that the show would be closing at the beginning of September, after the Labour Day weekend. Brooke immediately started panicking at the prospect of being out of a job in one of the most expensive cities in the world. There was nothing she wanted less than to have to move back home to Toronto with her tail between her legs. 

It had been two years since _ Moulin Rouge! _closed, and although Brooke had managed to avoid making the move back home, she hadn’t been able to get a job performing since. She was always too tall, or too technical, or didn’t have enough personality. She’d been able to find a job in the meantime, teaching classes at a dance studio in Tribeca, but the money she made from that was barely enough to cover her necessities. It certainly didn’t cover luxuries such as brunch with your ex-roommate, as Brooke found out after her credit card was declined at her and Scarlet’s bi-weekly date. She barely had time to try and form an apology before she witnessed Scarlet reaching into her purse and placing a crisp one hundred dollar bill on the table, telling the waitress to keep the sixty dollars in change. Her embarrassed expression transformed into one of jaw-dropped shock as the redhead pulled her from the restaurant. 

On the walk back to the subway, Scarlet revealed to Brooke that she’d been various “mutually beneficial relationships” with different men since she’d first moved to the city when she was 19, and that it had been her main source of income even while she was performing. 

“It’s easy money, plus it’s kind of empowering,” explained Scarlet in her low voice, which still held a hint of the drawl indicative of her Southern upbringing. “It’s like, they have the money but I have all the emotional power. Without me _ generously _donating my time to them, all these men have are their frigid marriages, or soul sucking jobs. A lot of the time the only thing standing between these powerful, rich men and a complete nervous break is me. And if that’s not power, I don’t know what is. So if I have to laugh at a few bad jokes and kiss a couple of CEOs to be able to live the kind of life I want, all while knowing that I could end any of these men at any given moment, then so be it.”

Oddly inspired by her friend’s speech, Brooke downloaded the sugar dating app onto her phone later that day. 

And now here she was, sitting in front of her laptop at 11:00 pm on a Saturday night, drinking a bottle of wine and stress reading her three sentence bio for at least the tenth time. _ Fuck it, _ she thought, _ this is as good as it’s gonna get. _

After clicking the “submit” button, Brooke was redirected to a page showing all of the potential sugar daddies in her area. As she scrolled through pages upon pages of photos of headless torsos, she became increasingly regretful of her decision to not filter out men immediately. 

**CEToEs**

Disgusting. 

**KinkyExec**

Nope. 

**DominantDaddy**

Absolutely not. 

Brooke was a lesbian, and had known that since she was 14. However, Scarlet told her that there were far more sugar daddies than sugar mommies in the New York area, and that a lot of the time the men didn’t necessarily even want sex. But as she clocked the usernames of several of the daddies on the app, it was clear that the redhead had either lied to her or was somehow the most blissfully oblivious girl in the city. 

The blonde promptly returned to her settings page and deselected men as an interest. When she returned to the home page, she was delighted to see the profiles of fifty-or-so women pop up. She began scrolling again, hoping that someone would catch her eye. 

**WorldsMostPunkRockMoms**

Meh. The two blonde women in the thumbnail picture were definitely beautiful, but Brooke didn’t know how she felt about getting involved with a couple who had a child. 

**Detoxicant**

The woman in this picture looked like she’d had _ a lot _of plastic surgery. Still, she was hot. Brooke tapped the little heart icon next to the photo and continued scrolling.

Toward the bottom of the page there was one profile that had a little green dot next to the thumbnail. Brooke took a little comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only one on this app at this time on a weekend night. She clicked on the profile and two pictures filled her screen. The first was a headless torso shot of a woman wearing an oversized Versace t-shirt as a dress. Although her face was out of frame, Brooke could tell that the woman’s hair was a caramel brown, at least at the tips, and went to just below her collarbone. The second image was another faceless picture, but in this one the woman was wearing a spaghetti strapped red dress, showing off her deeply tanned skin and an, in Brooke’s opinion, weirdly specific chest tattoo of a hairless cat atop a red rose. The bio beneath the pictures read: 

**V** **  
** **23/F/New York City**

**no face pics because i gotta stay lowkey. promise i’m not gonna kill you or anything like that, just lookin for a cute girl i can take out and trEat right. **

Brooke rolled her eyes at the innuendo and let out a small huff of a laugh. The girl obviously had some sort of sense of humour, which she supposed was important. And it was pretty impressive that someone so young was in a position where they could support someone else financially. 

The green dot was still displayed next to V’s username. She was still online. Brooke took a deep breath and clicked the chat icon at the bottom of the screen, typing out a quick, hopefully flirty-but-without-coming-on-too-strong, message. 

_ BLH: I hate to break it to you, but saying ‘I’m not gonna kill you’ sounds exactly like what someone who would kill me would say ;) _

Brooke quickly exited out of the app and opened up Instagram to check and see if Katya or her wife had added any new photos of their cats or dog. Before she could even begin typing her sister’s name into the search bar, her phone dinged, letting her know that V had responded. 

_ V: hate to break it to you babe but saying youre looking for a partner sounds like youre tryna open up a law firm _

Brooke swore under her breathe. She knew she sounded too robotic. 

_ BLH: Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like this before so I don't really know what people are looking for. _

_ V: lol relax mami, youre cute with all your worrying _

She bit down on her lower lip, half in frustration and half trying to suppress a smile. V was already teasing her about her worrying, and they hadn’t even met yet. 

_ BLH: Aren’t you more of the mommy in this situation though ;) _

_V: i mean i usually prefer daddy ;) _

Brooke felt a quick rush of heat to her center at the word “daddy”. She closed her eyes trying to stave away memories of various nights in the alleyways behind various bars with various women.

_ BLH: I think I can make that work ;) _

_ V: listen, not to be too upfront but youre gorgeous id love to take you out sometime if youd want? _

_ V: we could meet and figure out an allowance or something if thats what you want! ive done this once before and it was a really good experience for both of us...i gave her around $8000 a month for rent and stuff but we could figure out something specially for you if you need somethin different _

Brooke could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop when she read the word “month”. She’d never been with one single person for more than three nights, much less on a month to month basis. But V seemed nice at least. And if not nice, she was at least experienced at this kind of arrangement, and was apparently quite generous to boot. Eight thousand dollars a month would cover her rent and utilities almost four times over. Eight thousand dollars a month would mean that she wouldn't have to worry about getting her card declined at brunch. Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she wouldn't have to pick up every possible shift at the studio, and could spend more time going to auditions.

Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she was definitely not turning V down right off the bat. 

_ BLH: I’d love that. Name the time and place, I’m free when you are. _

_ BLH: Daddy ;) _

Brooke Lynn Hayhoe doesn’t do relationships — but for eight thousand dollars a month, she was willing to fake it.


End file.
